Untiltled.

Little dots in the sky
Suspended
Cotton wool buds
Independant of their wooden rod
With no support
Hanging
On the soft white - blue
Turning to pink
Forming
In the womb of our atmosphere
But for now
They are scattered; pieces of our world
Lost to an endless horizon -

Workaway #2

Traumatised from mountain roads we arrived at Paul & Katja’s late in the afternoon. Instantly friendly and kind they welcomed us into their new house for some proper English tea, shortly followed by a tour of their gloriously renovated three storey Slovenian house and field scattered with wild-flowers. Dinner was already soaking: spicy chicken smoked later on a cherry wood fire with roasted potatoes and cucumber salad from their newly emerging vegetable patch.



During our short stay we built a path and chopped some wood (moving it to the perfect bonfire site ready for baked potatoes). We wish we could have done more for them in exchange for their generous hospitality. Even if it was just for the stunning views and for bringing us to such a secluded gem nestled South of the Triglavski national park.

Gore, the village above Paul & Katja’s mountain retreat, consists of around eight houses, most of which have at the very least a neatly attended garden and not unusually a sloping field and a few livestock. The small dairy filled with 20 beige and white cows formed the centre of the rural village. From their house, situated at the end of a 45% road, the forest encrusted mountains of three valleys stretched away, greeting the chiselled clouds with their pyramidal peaks. After rain (half of our stay) these peaks would rise out of the mist like triumphant ships wrecked in twirling currants that disappeared up in wisps. They had extended the balcony from the original house out into a piazza where we bathed in the evening sun with a carafe of chilled white wine and the delights from Katja’s kitchen, gazing at this incredible view.

On Saturday we met the neighbours. A typical Slovenian family with the three daughters living upstairs and butchery in the garage (a family will build enough floors in the house for the children they expect to have). It was a party to celebrate the new football pitch built by the residents of the next village. We all sat together enjoying the jaunty music of a traditional live band, sipping Laŝko and enviously following the young and old waltzers as they whirled around the tarmac.

When we left (after a few troubles getting the van out of the sand pit and up the hill) Katja packed us off with a loaf of freshly made bread and three packages of salamis and ham and we promised to return soon. Back on the road and thankful of the relief of a real home, we are off to discover Italy.

Workaway #1

After Ljubljana we travelled to Bled for a few nights camping before starting our first work-away.
First glimpse: a long traditional Slovenian farmhouse with enough space for all the family, opening up into a clean yard boxed in with triangular roofed barns and a stretch of overgrown field. Anẑe wasn’t at home so Spanish Lorre gave us the best of her knowledge of what we would be doing. And who knew how varied the next week would be.

We cut down 15 hectares of small apples, collected 25 litres of honey from hives in the mountain woods, unpacked 3000 crates from 2 lorries, picked 30 kilos of purple plums, unscrewed the lids from 2500 bottles, cleaned out two huge cool stores and even squeezed in a swim to the island on Lake Bled and a trip up Triglav, 2864m (or at least Ed did).

Anẑe and Lorre (Slovenian and Spanish) conveniently communicated in English and were our energetic hosts from 1^st July until the 13^th. We lived, worked and ate with them and they took us to Bled, Bohinj, Triglav and out with friends. The work was hard in 32° heat, and sometimes boring, unpacking, stacking, repacking and arranging wooden crates for 6 hours one morning or driving the tractor at 2mph up and down the tightly packed rows of apple trees while the others (including Branco, the uncle who only spoke Slovene) stood ‘throwing the apples down’ on the trailer behind. But it reaped rewards. Ed’s first mountain just happened to be the highest in Slovenia, including real climbing... We went all around the area collecting various goodies for supper – wine, fresh trout to be BBQed by a roaring gorge with some friends.



Overall it was a good workaway experience and we left a touch of sadness. I hope that we will remain friends with Anẑe and Lorre and return after their baby is born.

Several Unfortunate Events in Ljubljana.

On our second day in Slovenia we drove from their small coastline up to the capital city, the frequently mispronounced Ljubljana. (“lub-li-ana”). Instantly we loved it. The vibe was just right. After the down-turned expressions of most of the Croatian population, friendly Slovenians shone out like light in a dark place. That is until we were faced with the first major incident of our travels.

Ljubljana was a dream to drive into (albeit a Sunday afternoon) and almost a dream to park in (defiantly due to the day of the Sabbath). But all the same, we parked up near to some central flats where parking was free, then sauntered off into the city centre. The buzz of weekend life soon caught hold as we quickly found a toilet spot in a riverside cafe. The sights here are not to be compared with Vienna; the salmon pink town hall, the dragon bridge with its painted toe-nail guardians and the triple bridge being probably the extent of photographic souvenirs (the castle perched on the hill – sadly missed out of our extensive tour – another biggie). However it is a wonderful place for soaking up continental life.


Sunday afternoon wanderings lead us in search of the mysterious ‘Metalcova’, an ex-army base taken over by squatters... and now playing host to a youth hostel, a museum, and several eclectic clubs. We were intrigued. Suspicions were correct: peeking out from the modern courtyard of the ethnography museum we were unsure whether this was a back end council estate or a new style of modern art. The whole of two streets were covered in a myriad of spray-on colour. Graffiti reigned here. We ventured in and discovered some creepy models, ingenious building works and people just rising from a late night, not just from the youth hostel (an ex prison) but from the second storey of what could only be the hyped up music venues. One man almost watered me instead of his tomatoes hanging from a basket on the roof.

So how can such a hidden treasure become such an unfortunate event?? Well the first was perhaps discovered that morning: no gas. And after several fruitless searches previously we found a much obliging outdoor shop assistant who pin-pointed a spot on the map and looked up its postcode. But then more disappointment: the special station for refilling gas canisters only did propane. Not only that, they told us that it was only possible to find butane on the coast. So no more cooking in the van for a while.

Second, after a night’s stay in a campsite out of town, we drove back in for a photo trip (only two hours or so) and parked up near to where we had spent the night, on the road by a couple of bars. Returning, ready to move on again, we were greeted by police warnings attached to the van’s windows. All in Slovenian. And there was a clamp.

A young Slovene was just getting into his car on the opposite side of the road and I ran over to ask for a translation, which we got, as well as a lift all the way through the city to the parking place where one could pay for such atrocities. Once there all we could do was hand over the money and hope for the best. The man at the desk spoke little English. We were left to find our way back to the van.

At last we were on our way again, after the clamp miraculously disappearing and a sneaky van passing us in the street. There were also many more cars parked around us by then... Oh, and a couple of gentlemen having a laugh and pointing at our now free to roll wheel.